Specter
by Elmo13
Summary: Rey and Kylo Ren share bond neither of them can control or deny. ***Trying to survive TROS.***
1. Still Here

**Hi, guys. It's been forever. I saw TROS yesterday, and my heart is both overjoyed at seeing Ben Solo and broken at how short-lived that joy was. I had this idea, and I needed to grieve for what may be one of my favorite characters of all time. Maybe I'll write more, but I know that in my heart, they went with a less obvious ending.**

**Ben Solo lives. **

**Starts at the beginning of TROS. **

The grueling training session was still etched in every single one of her stiff muscles when Rey entered her small cabin. The air was heavy with humidity, the moons gleamed high in the sky, and her tired bones ached for the caress of hot water.

The whoosh of the electric door was followed by the crackling of plastic as she fumbled around for a leftover piece of bread and meat to engulf.

As she was about to peel off her dirty clothes, a presence loomed behind her, and she closed her eyes in a mix of desperation and acceptance. "You're still here."

"As are you," Ren grumbled, his eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on something she couldn't see.

Rey tried not to notice the obvious fatigue dragging his face down or the huge bruise deforming his cheekbone. Black curls stuck to his neck, damp with sweat. She squashed down the urge to ask about the unnatural way he was holding his side, signaling yet another injury.

His battles were fought against her people and allowed the darkness to spread into the galaxy, she reminded herself. Who cared if Kylo Ren was hurt? She should have rejoiced at the bloody lines denting his neck, and yet she couldn't.

The Jedi in training had lost count of how many days it'd been since he'd first appeared in her personal quarters amongst the lush vegetation of the new resistance hideout. 200? 300? Every day he came to her… or she came to him. Who knew who was to blame for this Force bond anymore?

Snoke had declared he'd been the one to create it, and yet it had survived—no, strengthened—after his death. Rey suspected Kylo Ren's old master had lied in an attempt to twist the unusual phenomenon in his favor.

Ren was also not the culprit. No, the Supreme leader of the First Order would never choose to appear to her in this weak state, and that reassured her again that he was as helpless to control the connection as she was.

"Had a bad day on the job?" she chimed, a feeble attempt at dark humor.

She'd tried ignoring him before, but her stoicism only seemed to increase the length of the episodes.

"Yes."

The raw discouragement in his voice stunned her into silence.

Rey couldn't escape the irony of them being forced into this quiet—and totally unwanted—intimacy. She'd tried to mention it to Leia a dozen times only to chicken out at the last second. How could she explain this to the general? To anyone?

Ren took a long swig of water and set down his saber.

Rey wondered how big his chambers were, and what he would think of the fact that she'd asked to live in a remote cabin instead of closer to the camp with Finn, Poe, and BB-8. It frustrated her to no end that she couldn't see where he was, only him. Sometimes, she would get a glimpse of an object he came in contact too, and she always saw the furniture on which he sat or leaned against, but that was it.

"You should clean up those cuts before they get infected," she added in what she hoped to be a detached tone.

At that he finally looked at her, his gaze roaming over her white training clothes and lingering on the sweaty circles below her armpits. "You really want me to hop into a 'fresher now?" He arched a brow, and the teasing edge of his voice crashed through her like thunder.

She nervously rubbed her palms against her trousers, her gaze flying to the bar of soap on the table, reminding her that she'd been about to do just that.

With a sigh, Ren let go of his wounded side and clasped his cloak off, the fabric disappearing from view as soon as he stopped touching it. "I see my mother is still insisting on these ridiculous jungle runs."

"She wants to push my limits, as any great Master would," Rey insisted, trying to convey how lucky she was to be taught by Leia, and how stupid Ren had been to betray his family.

"That's smart. After all, you're their only hope." His lips quirked up as though the words reminded him of some private joke.

That was her disastrous reality. She spent her days training so she could destroy him and what he stood for, and yet she had to exchange quips and endure his presence at night. The bond scarcely highjacked her life in the middle of a Resistance meeting or during a high-adrenaline mission. No, he mostly appeared in moments like this, when she was alone.

A twisted domesticity that she could not share nor explain to anyone.

Maybe she should have tried to room with someone else to counter the effect of the bond, but her nature wouldn't allow that. People tired her. Finn, Poe—even Leia. She had to have peace, even if that peace was sometimes sprinkled with dark whispers and barely veiled threats. Or like now, when Ren's double-edged comments reminded her how, in an alternate reality, Ben Solo would have been the one to undertake the First Order, not her.

Comments that reminded her how things different her life would be if Han had gotten through to his son.

And what scared her most was how she longed for this fantasy, for Ben to be here so she could pass the burden of being the galaxy's only hope to him. How badly she wished for a break from the ever-increasing pressure.

Rey shook her head and wiped those thoughts from her mind. She had to stop feeling sorry for herself. Ben Solo was dead, and Ren was merely the ghost of him.

Yet she was stuck here, in this haunted place, with her haunted heart. The shadow of what might have been darkened even the brightest victory, and the Force bond to her dark, rash, flesh-and-blood specter deepened the chasm between her and her friends.

Kylo Ren sat on his mattress, the black sheets wrinkling underneath him. "Since I can't make you go away, be quiet at least."

The order sparked a hot trail of anger in her belly, but she swiftly squashed it down.

"You be quiet," she answered, knowing it would kill him to obey. She laid down on her own bed, facing him, a foot of dead space and a million parsecs between them.

"Can't I ever get a rest from you?" He said in a soft growl, the energy gone from his voice, his lids heavy with exhaustion as he rested his head on his pillow.

She stared at his long, dark eyelashes. The pores of his skin were still sticky with a mix of sand, sweat and murder. "Apparently not." Her hand clenched around the linen as she resisted the urge to wipe the red, coagulated freckles from his cheek. The blood of one of her allies, perhaps?

She closed her eyes, the weight of him making the mattress beneath her shift as he adjusted his long limbs to a more comfortable position. A spicy, masculine scent filled her nostrils and chipped away at her sanity.

Tomorrow, she would find a way to cast Kylo Ren out of her head for good. Yes, tomorrow, she would find a way to break this curse.

Never mind the fact that she could no longer fall asleep without him.


	2. Alive

**So, this scene kept me awake last night. **

Alone. Never had Rey felt the sting of loneliness harder than now. Huddled against the wall of the ship they'd found on Pasaana, she grieved Chewbacca. Finn and Poe had given her some space after she'd snapped at Finn for trying to cheer her up one too many times. They were speaking softly about her on the deck.

"_You should rest,"_ Finn had said.

Like she could rest now, if ever, knowing what she had done.

They didn't get it. That power had come out of _her_. Murder and destruction lived _inside_ her.

Darkness.

Almost as vibrant as her light, and it rattled. Oh, how it rattled against its caged, desperate to be let out.

She remembered it so well. How she'd wanted—no, needed—to win that Force tug-of-war against Ren. How she'd felt, seeing him in front of her in the flesh for the first time in almost a year.

How afraid she'd been at her body's reaction. Goosebumps had run down her neck. Shivers had shaken her to the core. And, as he'd uttered the words "I missed you," she'd known she had to fight him off and keep him from coming closer.

He should have been the one to taste the Sith lightning bolt, not Chewie.

The dark and familiar presence sizzled in the air around her.

She hopped to her feet in one fluid motion. "You. It was your fault." She clicked her saber on and angled it at Ren's somber face. "You killed him."

The tint of her weapon cast a blue halo over Kylo Ren's pale features.

"No," he said, his gaze following the tears rolling down on her cheeks as though it was the only map left to Exegol.

"If you hadn't— I wanted to save him, but you had to ruin it. Like you have to ruin _everything_." Rey stopped herself, her breaths short and shallow. A wave of anger and grief threatened to overwhelm her, and those would only lead to a darker outburst.

She set her light saber on the cot and clenched her fists, forcing deep breath down her windpipe. Her arms, her legs, her entire body was shacking with rage and despair.

"He's alive," Ren grumbled crossly, like a man forced to part with a secret he hadn't intended on sharing.

Rey's head whipped up to meet Ren's stare again. Alive? It had to be a ruse. A trick. She'd seen the ship burst into flames. There was no way anyone had survived that.

"There was another transport," Ren added with a slight tilt of the head.

"Another…" her breath hitched. Everything about Ren's demeanor rang true.

"Chewie is…"

"My prisoner. And don't worry, I don't plan on torturing him. He was the only parent I had who gave a damn about me," Ren said bitterly.

Rey sank to her knees, the relief engulfing her so true, so poignant, that she couldn't control herself in front of her enemy.

Almost in perfect synch, Ren kneeled in front of her.

Their eyes met. Ren's gloved hand was frozen in mid-air between them. A hand either meant to strike her… or comfort her?

Rey could read his face better than his words. The agony written across his features reminded her of why he wore a mask to war.

He jolted away several feet, and his hands rallied into fists at his sides. His stormy gaze fell to the one who'd reached for her like it had betrayed him somehow and he was contemplating the idea of cutting it off.

As the shock receded, Rey was left with only joy in her heart, the light once again shining brightly within her. She rose to her feet and took one step in Ren's direction. "Thank you. For telling me."

He huffed like she was being a child and pried off his gloves.

She should have asked why he'd bothered to make her whole since it only hindered his own designs, but she knew. The bond was stronger than ever before. It grew and grew faster than the worse weed in the galaxy, and whenever he was angry, she felt it. Whenever she was sad, he endured it.

I guess it made sense for him to want to calm her down, if only for his sake.

The exhaustion she's ignored before crept into her bones, and she sat on the cot. "I should rest."

He passed a hand through his dark curls. "I can't exactly leave."

"I know."

They both had no control over how long these visits lasted, but they had to recharge before the next round. The next fight. Against each other…

"I'll come for Chewie," Rey said with a hint of defiance.

"And I'll come for you first."

The words were clearly intended to be ominous, but the way he'd whispered them at her ear sparked a hot trail in her belly.

The corner of her lips betrayed her, and she hid the smile into her palm. She'd come to accept how her body unwittingly reacted to him. She'd cursed herself and treated the longing in her heart like a plague she had to find a cure to. Her mind flew back to their first meeting, in that God-forsaken torture chair. "Don't worry, I feel it too," he'd said then.

She wondered if he felt it now, this unreasonable need for them to find a place to _rest _together.


End file.
